


patchwork hearts

by renecdote



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce wants to give him one, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Post Bruce's Return, Post Red Robin, Smallville - Freeform, Tim needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: The next person Bruce calls is Martha Kent. She is delighted to hear from him—Bruce thinks she might even cry a little, although it’s hard to tell over the phone—and when he says he’s looking for his son, she says, “Oh yes, Tim and Conner are in town running some errands for me. Would you like me to have him call you when they get home?”She says it so casually: home. And Bruce knows she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it stings, to think that maybe Tim doesn’t feel at home in Gotham anymore.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 179





	patchwork hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt ("You left me alone.")

It’s not until he goes looking that Bruce realises he doesn’t know where to find his son anymore. Tim isn’t in the penthouse, he’s not in the bunker, he’s not in the Manor—nothing is there but dust cloths and ghosts—and Bruce is running out of places to look. He even checks the Drake estate, but it’s as dark and boarded up as it has been for years. When Bruce finally gives in and asks Alfred, he gets pointed toward the old theatre on Crime Alley, but although there are remnants of Tim all over the place, there is no sign that he has actually been there in the last week.

Surprisingly, it is Damian who is able to give him a definitive answer.

“He’s with Superboy,” his youngest says. “They left Gotham five days ago.”

There is something almost smug about the way he says it. Maybe because he knows something that Bruce doesn’t. Maybe because Tim is gone. Bruce frowns.

“I thought Superboy was dead.”

Damian shrugs, disinterested. “It was definitely Kryptonian.”

So Bruce calls Clark; and Clark tells him that Conner is back, yes it is definitely him, “I don’t really understand, Bruce, there was a lot of talk about time travel and cults, but I’m sure, it’s him. He’s alive.”

There seems to be a lot of that going around lately. Time travel included.

The next person Bruce calls is Martha Kent. She is delighted to hear from him—Bruce thinks she might even cry a little, although it’s hard to tell over the phone—and when he says he’s looking for his son, she says, “Oh yes, Tim and Conner are in town running some errands for me. Would you like me to have him call you when they get home?”

She says it so casually: _home_. And Bruce knows she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it stings, to think that maybe Tim doesn’t feel at home in Gotham anymore.

“No,” he says. “No, it’s okay, I’ll try him again later.”

But he doesn’t call back. And either Martha doesn’t pass along that he called, or Tim isn’t interested in calling him back to find out why, because he doesn’t hear anything from the Kent farm for the rest of the day. It’s better to just give Tim space, he thinks. He was devastated by Conner’s death, he wants to spend time with his friend, he’ll come home when he’s ready.

—//—

Except—Tim doesn’t come home.

A week goes by. Bruce solves two cases, and carves out his patrol routes around the new Batman and Robin, and every night he swings by the theatre on Crime Alley to find it still standing empty. He takes Cass out to dinner, goes with Dick and Damian to an art exhibition, and has a stilted conversation with Jason over late-night milkshakes. He talks with Lucius Fox, hashing out plans for a global crime-fighting network, and when Lucius asks about Tim, he doesn’t know what to say. 

The next evening, he finds himself in Smallville, knocking on the door of the Kent farmhouse.

Conner answers. He does a double take when he sees Bruce, then yells back over his shoulder, “Yo, Tim, your dad is here!”

“What are you talking abou—” Tim’s face appears around Conner’s shoulder. “Oh. Bruce, hi.” He doesn’t sound upset to see Bruce, just surprised. That almost hurts more. “What are you doing here? Is everything alright in Gotham?”

“Everything is fine. Your brothers have it under control.”

He almost misses the wince Tim tries to hide by turning his head. “Good. That’s, um, good,” he says, and Bruce gets the feeling he doesn’t mean it. 

He moves on quickly. “I was looking for you.”

Tim frowns. “Did you need something? You could have called.”

_Did you need something?_ Like Bruce can’t just be looking for his son because he wants to spend time with him. 

Conner is still hovering, watching them, and Bruce glances at him. 

“Maybe we can talk somewhere?”

Tim follows him down the front steps, then around the barn to a tree that used to have a bench seat under it. It’s been too long since Bruce has been to the Kent farm because the tree is still there, but the seat is gone. Bruce leans against the fence and looks out at the horses grazing in the paddock instead. Tim leans beside him, arms stuck through the wooden rails. 

“Bruce?” he ventures. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

His voice sounds too grown up for how young he actually looks, playing with the flannel cuffs around his wrists, watching Bruce out of the corner of his eye. Bruce wonders whether _he_ did that, getting lost in time, or if it was already happening and he just missed it. 

Now that he’s here, all the things he wants to say have tangled together, and what comes out—what he wasn’t planning to say at all—is: “Alfred said you moved out.”

That was how Alfred phrased it: _Master Timothy has moved out_. Dick’s wording hadn’t been quite so…. censured. 

Tim just shrugs; he’s not looking at Bruce now. “Everyone else moved out first. And the penthouse was a little too crowded for my tastes.”

The penthouse is huge. It should comfortably have fit all four of them—Alfred and Dick and Damian and Tim. With Bruce there now, they hardly run into each other unless they’re all in the bunker or Alfred has orchestrated it. So maybe it took him a day or two longer than it should have to stop Dick by the elevator and ask _where is your brother?_

He hadn’t liked the answer.

“Dick said you ran away.”

Tim goes stiff. “I was looking for you. I—I _found_ you.”

And Bruce is grateful for that. He is. Grateful for this beautiful kid who he doesn’t deserve, who never gave up hope even when he probably should have. But still.

“You didn’t have to do it alone.”

How many times has he heard Alfred say _that boy is too much like you, Master Bruce_ in the last five years? Bruce is a hypocrite and he knows it. 

Tim won’t meet his eyes. He stares out at the horses like it’s a personal mission he’s been given.

“You left us alone, Bruce. Things changed.”

“I didn’t leave you—”

“I know,” Tim cuts in, finally looking at Bruce. His lips twitch up; not quite a smile. “But you kinda did.”

Bruce doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not sure there is anything to say; nothing good enough, at least. Not even _I’m sorry_ feels right.

“Do you remember when my dad died?” Tim continues after a minute. “I said I needed space and you gave it to me.”

Bruce nods. In hindsight, he regrets that. If he’s being honest, he regretted it at the time. But he wasn’t Tim’s father then, not really, and he hadn’t wanted to crowd in where he wasn’t wanted.

Plus, Tim had lied to him. He couldn’t forget that. Tim had lied about living with an uncle in Bludhaven because he didn’t want Bruce to take him in. Even when Bruce figured it out, that there was no uncle, that Tim was living alone, he hadn’t been sure how to step in. He hadn’t been sure how to parent this kid who he’d really been parenting for three years before the paperwork made it official.

Now, things are different.

Tim looks at him properly, maybe for the first time since Conner opened the front door. 

“I need some space, Bruce,” he says. 

Funny how he doesn’t look so young anymore. 

“How long?” Bruce asks. 

Tim shrugs. “I don’t know yet. A few weeks, at least.” He looks back at the farmhouse, where Martha Kent is probably making dinner and Conner Kent is surely eavesdropping on their conversation. “Kon and I were talking about getting the Teen Titans back together, maybe, now that he and Bart are back.”

_I’d be leaving Gotham permanently_ , he doesn’t say. Bruce hears it anyway. 

He’s not sure when, but he gets the feeling that he has lost the right to say no. To say Tim is too young or too irresponsible—not that he ever has been—or even just that Bruce would rather have him home.

“Okay,” he says. “Take all the time you need.” He hesitates, then, because he can’t just leave it at that. “But if— _when_ —you’re ready to come home… call me.”

He can’t make himself say please. The smile Tim gives him makes him think he heard it anyway.

“I will,” he promises. 

Tim makes the first move, but Bruce hugs back just as tightly. And there, with this kid in his arms, knowing where the rest of them are, knowing that they’re all safe—Bruce finally feels at home. And he realises, maybe he doesn’t need them all to come home as well, maybe he just needs to know that they’re all okay. Maybe it’s not so bad, that things have changed.


End file.
